Every Little Piece
by Gabrielle88
Summary: Set slightly before and during Ginny's Fifth Year. Ginny must cope with her bewildering feelings for Harry, O.W.L.s and, on top of everything else, mysterious threats from the most terrible wizard the world has ever known. HG RHr
1. Chores

Disclaimer: None of the characters or places or events are my property. I'm only borrowing them from the brilliant J.K. Rowling.

"GINEVRA MARIE WEASLEY!"

Ginny groaned aloud and rolled herself out of bed. Her mother, Molly, was standing in the doorway of her bedroom, her brown eyes snapping fiercely. "_Mum_," Ginny said sleepily. "I'm _tired_."

"I don't care _how_ tired you are. Your brother's guests are coming this afternoon and I want this house spic and span before one o' clock. You _still_ haven't mopped the kitchen _or_ done the laundry."

Ginny put her hand on her forehead and sighed heavily. "Yes, yes, fine, whatever."

Looking reasonably satisfied, Molly shifted the dish towel she was holding to her left hand and patted her daughter's cheek. "There's a dear. And don't forget to make up a salad for dinner." With that, Molly swept from the room.

Ginny stumbled over to her bureau and changed into a pair of severely patched blue jeans and a faded pink tank top. She peered indifferently at her reflection in the square mirror that was propped on her bureau. A tangle of long, dark red curls framed her freckle-dusted, heart-shaped face. She had wide cheekbones, a stubborn chin, and a full, expressive mouth. She hurriedly dragged a brush through her hair and pulled it up into a messy ponytail. Ginny walked out into the narrow hallway and headed in the direction of the bathroom. She twisted the doorknob but it didn't budge. Scowling to herself, Ginny knocked on the door.

"Somebody's in here," a slightly irritated voice said.

"Somebody else needs to brush her teeth," Ginny retorted.

"I'm _busy_."

"Ron, I only need a second!"

"I'm in the middle of a very delicate process at the moment." Her older brother sounded as though he was gritting his teeth. "Go away."

"Open the door!" Ginny reiterated.

"Sod off," was Ron's reply.

Ginny made a noise of frustration and stalked off, muttering about 'idiot brothers.' She paused in the middle of the hallway, her eyes attracted to a crooked picture hanging on the wall. In it, her parents and six older brothers were grouped in front of a blue background, Molly clutching a wailing Ginny in her arms. Molly wore a very strained smile as her infant daughter attempted to yank out her hair in large tufts. A two-year-old Ron was fidgeting as if someone had put itching powder in his trousers. This thought drew Ginny's attention to the five-year-old twins, who wore wide grins and sported several missing teeth. Percy looked as fussy as usual, but he'd looked fussy even in his baby pictures. Bill's hair was neatly trimmed and there were no dragon fangs in sight, but there was something sarcastic and distinctly Bill-ish in his eyes. Charlie, like Ron, seemed to be having trouble staying in one place and Ginny guessed that the twins had visited his pants drawer, too.

Ginny felt oddly choky and averted her eyes from the photograph. In the kitchen, she found a bucket and mop waiting to be used. Mentally cursing her mother, Ginny walked into the laundry room and retrieved a box of soap flakes. Despite the innumerable times that Ginny had pointed out that Molly could complete every household chore with a flick of her wand, Ginny was still forced to do them. Molly and Arthur seemed to believe that 'domestic chores' helped build character, or some other such rubbish. Ginny dumped the soap flakes in the bucket of cold water and stirred the concoction a bit with the mop. When she had worked up a sufficient amount of suds, Ginny began the process of mopping the badly scuffed hardwood floor. As she performed this tedious task, her thoughts drifted to the impending visit of her brother's two best friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Over the past couple of years, Ginny and Hermione had built up a strong friendship. Hermione found in Ginny an outlet into which she could pour out all her girl-related problems, and Ginny found in Hermione the best listener she had ever met. Ginny was looking forward to her friend's visit with pleasant anticipation. As to the arrival of Harry Potter, Ginny positively dreaded the event.

Not that she didn't like Harry. On the contrary - she _did_ like him, perhaps a little too much. Ginny didn't like to admit it, but her crush for Harry was slowly beginning to resurface, due in part to the correspondence they had been sharing over the summer. Harry had written her a few letters - four to be exact. They were brief, almost entirely impersonal missives but peppered with phrases that reminded Ginny of what a genuine person Harry was. She had almost forgotten how much she loved his dry wit, his unbelievably lofty ideals about chivalry, and his essential Harry-ness. All these things had endeared him to her as a child, and his letters had reawakened many of the feelings she had thought she had put behind her forever.

The reason Ginny resented all of this was simple: she knew Harry would never return her feelings. The thought stung dreadfully and made Ginny resolve to never show Harry how she felt. She couldn't bear the thought of making a fool of herself again - of doting on him with her eyes, of blushing when he glanced her way. Ginny's normally soft face hardened as she told herself sternly that Harry would never look at her as anything but Ron's Baby Sister.

Ginny finished her first chore and surveyed her work with satisfaction. The floor sparkled in the bright sun streaming in through the kitchen window. She proceeded into the laundry room to perform her next chore. It was a small, stuffy room, crammed with heaps of the Weasley family's filthy clothing. Picking her way past Ron's boxers and her mother's knickers, Ginny found the large metal tub and washboard Molly made her use to complete this detestable chore. It was ridiculous, Ginny privately thought, that even Muggles could perform this task without all this extra work. She grabbed a box of laundry detergent off a high shelf and poured half the box into the tub. She then carried in buckets of water from the pump outside and filled it.

As she dragged Ron's favorite Chudley Cannon's t-shirt up and down the washboard, Ginny reflected on the events of the past summer. Voldemort had been growing steadily more powerful, and the Ministry of Magic's feeble efforts had had little or no effect. Very stupid pamphlets had been issued sometime at the start of June, detailing the "duck and cover" method of protecting oneself against the most dangerous wizard the world had ever known. The Shield Charm had also been described, and underage witches and wizards had been given permission to use the charm should Voldemort show up at their home. Ginny hadn't found that bit at all reassuring. Ginny would have been kept completely kept out of the loop by Molly had it not been for Harry, whose letters kept her armed with what little information he had to share.

Before Ginny knew it, the laundry was washed. With a heavy sigh, she carried the loads of wet clothes outside and started hanging them on the line. It was a warm, sunny day with a light breeze that picked up the hairs that had escaped from her ponytail. Smiling to herself, Ginny clothes-pinned her bra to the clothes-line. At that exact moment a familiar voice said, "Ginny!" and she found herself being picked up and hugged by a pair of strong, comforting arms.


	2. Harry and Hermione's Arrival

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Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

"Harry!" she gasped, one side of her face crushed against his left shoulder. He released her after a few more moments than was necessary. Ginny gazed up into his face, struck dumb momentarily. He was taller - much taller - than she remembered. His body was still incredibly lean, but she noticed that much of his lankiness had been replaced with muscle. His jet black hair was as stubbornly unruly as ever, and his striking emerald green eyes twinkled familiarly from behind his glasses. "I - hi - er..." She broke off, surprised that the drool wasn't actually coursing down her chin. "When did you get here?"

"About three minutes ago. I think your Dad's levitating our trunks up the stairs."

"Cool," Ginny remarked, mentally smacking herself on the forehead for sounding so childish. "I mean, it's great to see you!"

"You too." He was now looking directly into her eyes and she could feel heat creeping across her cheeks.

"Ginny!" squealed a very familiar voice. Hermione appeared from somewhere behind Harry dressed in Muggle clothes and looking very pretty indeed.

"Hermione!" Ginny squealed back, thankful for a distraction from Harry's disturbingly intense gaze. She rushed at her friend for a brief embrace. "I've missed you two so much! How was Italy?"

"It was very lovely," Hermione replied, grinning. "I practically lived at the beach."

"I can tell." Hermione's skin tone had deepened to something akin to olive and there were a few blond streaks in her otherwise plain brown hair. "And your hair! It's so cute!' As a matter of fact, Hermione hair had lost most of its frizziness, and fell in smooth ringlets down her slender back.

"Thanks." Hermione grinned rather nervously as her eyes darted across the yard.

"Ron's in the front yard," Ginny remarked, correctly interpreting Hermione's expression, "de-gnoming the garden." She chanced a glance at Harry, whose gaze was fixed on some point above her head. Whirling around, she went red to discover her knickers and bras swaying gently on the clothesline. Harry noticed her looking and went red too. "I was doing the laundry," she explained lamely, wanting to bury her face in her hands.

Harry nodded, seemingly unable to speak due to a lump in his throat.

"Anyway," said Ginny, attempting to recover her composure, "let's go find Ron."

She led the way to the front yard, where her older brother was flinging the last gnome from the vegetable garden. "And good riddance, you ugly git!" he yelled after it with ridiculous gusto. A giggle escaped Hermione, causing Ron to turn on his heel to face her. "Her-Hermione?" he said, a grin dawning on his face. The two of them exchanged very awkward smiles.

"Is it as obvious to you as it is to me?" Harry muttered very close to Ginny's ear.

"Well, yeah," she replied. "I wish Ron would just ask her out and get it over with."

"Me too." Harry grinned suddenly - the adorable, heart-wrenching grin that thrilled Ginny to her fingertips. Out of nowhere he picked up her left hand and fiddled with the ring on her index finger. It was the ring she had inherited from her grandmother - gold with a single ruby set in the center. Molly often said that it represented the fact that she was the only girl in the family. Ginny could feel her face turning scarlet as a dizzy electricity leaped from his skin to hers. She suddenly clenched her hand and withdrew it from his grasp, scared of the emotion sweeping over her.

Hurt flashed briefly in Harry's eyes, but Ginny was too flustered to see it.

"Bill, Charlie and the twins are coming over for dinner tonight," she spouted off, painfully aware that she was babbling. "Mum said a few people from the Order might show up as well. Which reminds me, I promised her I'd make up a salad. How do you like your salads?"

Looking slightly defeated, Harry responded, "Whatever."

"Well, I best go and make it then, hadn't I? Unless you'd like to come?" Ginny could have bitten off her own tongue. _Why_ did such stupid things have to burst forst from her mouth unbidden?

_Of course_ Harry wouldn't want to come. He'd want to catch up with his _real _friends.

"That's okay," he replied. "Would you mind putting cucumbers in it, though?"

Ginny almost permitted her lower lip to tremble. "Of course not. See ya in a little while, Harry." She walked off in the direction of the house, her heart as heavy as a lump of lead. It was stupid of her to be _surprised _that Harry didn't want to help her with the bloody salad. Who in their right mind _would_? Yet something deep inside her quivered painfully and she hastily dashed away a tear that had escaped from her burning eyes.

"Stop acting like such a baby," she told herself as she gathered the ingredients for the salad. "You're acting like you're ten years old again, all goggle-eyed over him. Get over it."

As she carefully sliced the cucumber Harry had requested, Ginny pulled herself together. She was NOT that immature little girl she had been so long ago. She was an independent, self-possessed young woman. At least that's what she tried to tell herself.

"ARTHUR!"

Ginny winced as her mother's roar of rage traveled down the stairs and directly into her eardrum.

"What, dear?" she heard her father reply with unconvincing innocence.

"WHY - _WHY_ is there this THING in my bedroom?!"

"Molly, it's not a thing," began Arthur patiently, "it's a - "

"ARTHUR! IT'S TRYING TO EAT MY CURTAINS!"

"Oh, dear...It's not..._supposed_ to..." She could almost hear her father biting his lip.

"WELL, FIX IT, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE!"

Ginny could hear a dull sucking sound coming from the direction of her parents' bedroom and her father calling out some spell. The sucking sound increased. "ARTHUR!!!!!!!"

Ginny's curiosity got the better of her and she raced up the stairs. She was greeted with the sight of some Muggle household appliance attached to her mother's curtains, while Arthur attempted to wrench it off. The sucking noise was coming from the appliance, which seemed to have a will of its own.

"Dad, what _is_ that?"

"It's called a vakoom cleaner, dear," replied Arthur through gritted teeth. "Muggles use it to get the dust off their floors."

"Did you know, dear," said Molly with heavy sarcasm, "that I have something that performs that exact same task without destroying my great-grandmother's lace curtains? Hmm? IT'S CALLED A WAND!"

Arthur grunted something unintelligible. Rolling her eyes at her parents' antics, Ginny walked back down stairs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing in the kitchen, talking in low, conspiring whispers. As usual. It didn't seem they were capable of chatting without using hushed tones. Scowling, Ginny stalked out of the kitchen and flung herself on the couch.

Life was _so_ unfair.


End file.
